


A Thousand Scars

by ValentineRevenge



Category: AFI, Black Veil Brides
Genre: Cutting, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRevenge/pseuds/ValentineRevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davey decides to take a break from song writing, and put his psychology degree to good use. When he finds work at a local mental hospital, who should he find there but Ashley Purdy? But why is the bassist there in the first place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**This was partially inspired by the fact that I read somewhere that Davey Havok went to college for a psychology degree. Don't remember if he ever got it or not, but this explains my choice of character.**

****  
  
_How long have I been in here? I don't even know anymore. There's nothing to really look at, and no clocks. It's so quiet too, and the only smell is disinfectant... This must be sensory deprivation... There's just 4 white walls, with white floors and a white ceciling. The sheets on this hospital bed are white, too, just like the gowns they make me wear. Even the bathroom, everything's white. I'm itching for any color at all, even bright yellow.  
  
The polish is mostly flaked away from my nails, taking the last of the color in this room with it. Funnily enough, most of that wasn't really even color... I mean, can you really consider black a color? I mean, I have never seen a colorful zebra, have you? Now that I remember it, doing that pattern took me forever.   
  
They keep me tied to the bed here. It's not like I'm going to try to kill myself or anything. I don't even have anything to try with. They come in, I'm guessing 3 times a day, and force me to eat. They tell me that if I don't eat like a 'normal' person, then they'll have to use needles. They're none too gentle with those things, lemme tell you. At least, I assume its 3 times a day. I wouldn't be able to tell if it were night or day, considering this room has no windows. Not that I'd care, being stuck in here.  
  
I just want to get out of here. I want them to stop forcing those pills down my throat too. They make me so sick, so tired, but so hyped. You know what it's like when you're dead tired, but you can't fall asleep? I feel like that every day of my life, for the past I don't know how long, however long its been since they've locked me here.   
  
If I stay in here any longer, I'll go insane. Well, more insane. Is that even possible?   
  
Great, now my fucking wrists are starting to hurt. Again. even if I tell them that I'm in pain, they won't do a single fucking thing to help. If I'm lucky, they'll tell me that there's nothing that they can do, or maybe if I'm a really lucky bastard, then they'll tell me that they'll ask the doctor. But I know that I won't get anything that'll actually help me, because it isn't part of my 'plan'. This plan is some shit the doctors have come up with in here...Without my knowing what it is, of course.  
  
Oh, I never did tell you what happens if I'm unlucky, did I? I get yelled at, and told that it's my fault, I shouldn't have done it, all things I already know. Or maybe even, "Isn't that what I wanted?"   
  
Isn't it obvious by now that I just want to get out of here? But this hospital has the stupidest fucking policy of life that says that if I want to get out of here within the next 6 months, someone has to be willing to take responsibility for me. But the thing is, there's no one. My family doesn't give a shit about me. After the hell they put me through, the moment I turned 18, I told them "fuck you!" and walked out. They fucking deserved it, anyways.   
  
I haven't seen them since then. But it doesn't stop them from constantly calling and emailing and shit, forever trying to bring me down. Can't they tell that I just want them to go the fuck away already? I don't want anything else to do with them, ever.   
  
Before, I would've wondered whether Andy or Sandra would be willing to take me. But I know they won't. Neither will Jake, and even ol' Smellybones, my last resort, won't. I wonder what happened to my dogs. I hope they haven't been kicked onto the street, or thrown to the pound. I'd fucking die if that happened. They're like my kids...  
  
I wonder how these cuts are healing? Stupid fucker of a doctor told me that I can be treated "normally" after they heal... Normally meaning that I don't have to be tied down to the bed and watched while showering... I haven't seen them in over a week, and it's not like I can just take the bandages off now to see them, now can I? Last time I saw them, they definitely weren't looking good.   
  
I remember the guys (Sandra included) said that if anything like this happened again, they weren't going to be saving my ass again, because I should've learned my lesson. I wasn't like I didn't try... I did....I really did... But they've probably already found my replacement. _  
  
Ashley was torn from his thoughts as he heard the door opening. _Great, probably more fucking pills_ Instead, the restraints holding him to the bed were undone. Before he had a moment of relief, however, he was promptly placed into a straitjacket. The two orderlies who had come in were then shoving him out the door, leading him up one hallway and down another, through doorways, moving him so fast that he almost stumbled several times, not having him arms free to balance himself.   
  
Soon enough, he was in a doctors office. The chair was turned away from him, and he couldn't see who he was dealing with. He hoped it wasn't the same asshole doctor he'd had to deal with the last time. He was shoved into a chair by one of the orderlies, while the other one said, "He's here, sir."   
  
"Thanks, now go." The voice said, sounding mildly distracted. Even so, it sounded familiar to Ashley. It couldn't be who he thought it was, could it? The orderlies quickly left, shutting the door behind them. Then, the chair turned, confirming the bassists suspicions-and fears. His eyes flew wide open in shock, and even though he hadn't used his voice in a while, he whispered, "Davey?"  
  
"The one and only." Well, this was fucking embarassing!

"Don't worry, I'm just here, moonlighting for a while... They had a job, I had a degree, it all works out." Davey said, catching the look of worry on the other man's face. "Now what happened?"  
  
"I don't even know..." Ashley whispered, before he asked, "How long has it been?"  
  
"2 months."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why didn't you go home with Sandra? I know she always takes care of you..." Davey said, looking at Ashley with concern. "She said that the next time something like this happened, that she wouldn't bail me out. The others said pretty much the same thing too."   
  
"Damn... You're actually a pretty good guy, and I like you. I know that you're not a fucking looney who can't even be trusted alone for a half a second. But you just can't go on like you are..."   
  
"You read my file, didn't you?"   
  
"Comes with the job, unfortunately. I can't stand to see you just waste away in here, so I'll make a deal with you. What if I convince one of your bandmates to take you home?"   
  
Ashley nearly fell out of his seat. "Y-You'd do that?"   
  
"One condition though. The cutting stops. And, you have to take therapy. If you start cutting again, you're stuck coming back. I don't know everything there is to know about this situation, but talking to you as a friend, it's gone on too long. I've known you maybe a few years, and I always thought that you had stopped... Speaking as a professional, it's a dangerous behavior, and must be stopped immediately."   
  
Ashley let it sink in for a moment. He didn't particularly like the terms of it, but it was his ticket to freedom. Who knows when he might get another chance like this? "Okay." he said.


	2. Chapter 2

True to his word, Davey had contacted the other members of the band.   
  
"Aww, come on!" He yelled, slamming down the phone so hard that he swore that the base probably cracked. Then, to add onto his unfortunate situation, his next-door neighbor, the toerag whose name Davey couldn't be arsed to remember, and had no inclination to remember either, decided to throw open the door, and waltz in like he owned the fucking place, unannounced. "Dr. Marchand, is everything okay in here?" The toerag asked, raising an eyebrow at the singer. Was his tattoos showing again? He hoped not!  
  
"No, no, everything's fine."  
  
"Then why did I hear a crash?"  
  
Just leave it up to that asshole to be all up in other people's business. _I was wearing underwear when I left the house this morning, so I don't fucking need you up my goddamn ass!_ Davey thought flippantly, directing his frustration towards the man in front of him. The ugly, balding, graying, obese, scum of the earth standing in front of him who he would like to beat the living daylights out of and leave to die in a pit filled with- "Ahem!"   
  
_Oh joy, it coughed. Does this mean it's going to die soon?_  
  
"Sorry about that, I got lost in thought for a moment. And as far as the crash, I accidentally dropped the telephone."   
  
"DO you get lost in thought all that often?"  
  
Now it was peering over its glasses at him. "No, I just didn't get much sleep last night."   
  
"Is this a normal thing for you? Because there's medication for that, you know _Yeah, there seems to be meds for everything. Are there any meds to make you stop being such a stupid bastard?_ Davey's thoughts drowned out the rest of the man's sentence.   
  
"No, it's not a normal thing, the neighbor's dog wouldn't stop barking. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to get on with." The singer said, making a half-hearted wave at the folders on his desk.   
  
"Alright then, good to see such an enthusiastic young man!" The toerag said, leaving the room. Poor Davey nearly threw up at this last comment however.   
  
But back to the reason that he had nearly broken the crappy ass phone?  
  
Four failures in a row.   
  
He'd started with Jake.   
  
"Hey Jake?"   
  
"Hey, Davey!" Jake had sounded pretty upbeat.   
  
"How's life treating you?"  
  
"Pretty good, and yourself?"  
  
"Great, thanks. Hey man, I have a favor to ask outta you."  
  
"Well ask away then!"   
  
"Would you be willing to put up with Ashley for a week or so?"  
  
There was a sigh, before Jake said, "Listen, I don't know if he's told you already or not, but I've already made it clear that I don't want to be a part of his self-destruction anymore."  
  
"Oh. Sorry about that, I didn't know you already told him."  
  
"Eh, not your fault, you didn't know. Just don't ask again."  
  
"Ok. Bye, then."   
  
"Bye."  
  
Davey had hung up. That still left 3 other people, maybe 4. Depends on whether they could get CC to agree on it. Sure, he wasn't in the band, but whatever, he was still a techie or whatever, right? He usually filled in for Sandra whenever she was unable to perform...  
  
After several tries, Davey finally got through.   
  
"Who the fuck is this?!?" Was the first thing out of CC's mouth.   
  
"Davey Havok."  
  
"Well, I was fuckin' sleepin'!"  
  
"I'm so sorry, I had no idea. I thought that you would already be awake since it's noon."   
  
"Whatever dude. And whatever you wanted to call me up to harass me over better be fucking good or else you're getting a size 11 shoe up your ass, got it?"  
  
"Well, I'm not sure if it's good, but it's important..." Davey said, unsure of whether he would have to run like hell or be left with a shoeprint on his derriere.   
  
"If it's more important than my fuckin' sleep, then just spit it out!"  
  
"Long story short, Ashley-" was as far as he was able to get before CC interrupted with   
  
"Fuck no! Fuck _no_! Do you fuckin' hear me over there? I said fuck no! Fuck to the no! If you do anything, I'll scream rape! R-A-P-E! Cuz ya did something even after I told yo skank ass no!"   
  
Before Davey was able to get a word in edgewise, he was promptly hung up on, and was forced to remove the headpiece from his traumatized ear. When CC was hungover, and woken up, he sure was a loud, bitch son of a gun! "Three more fuckers." So far, this morning wasn't going well...   
  
When he called Jinxx up, it was only slightly better than with CC. The biggest difference was that his ass wasn't threatened by shoes, and he wasn't cursed out nearly half as much.   
  
"Heya."  
  
"Whosit?"  
  
"Davey Havok."  
  
"Whaddaya want?"  
  
"I was wondering if you'd be able to do me a favor?"  
  
"Watsit?"  
  
"I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me with Ashley."   
  
"Nah, dude...Just nah...I fuckin' told him dude..."   
  
"Alright. Sorry for waking you up." Davey said, hanging up, to allow the other to sleep off his hangover. Then, he called Sandra.   
  
"Hi, Sandra!"   
  
"Hi, Davey."   
  
"Haven't spoken to you in a while. How;ve you been?"  
  
"Eh, life's ok, how about yours?"   
  
"Great, thanks. Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?"   
  
"Maybe. What is it?"   
  
"I was wondering if you could take care of Ashley for like a week."  
  
"Listen, Davey, I'm sorry, but no. I don't know if he's told you, but I told him to please not come back asking for my help until he kicks this habit. I don't hate him, I love him to pieces in fact. He's like a brother, but the thing is, I just can't sit here and see him tearing himself apart piece by piece, and knowing fully well that there isn't a single thing I can do to stop him."  
  
"No, he didn't mention anything to me about it. In fact, he didn't even ask about me calling you, I was the one who said that I'd do it." He hoped that the lie wouldn't read through his voice. He never was a good liar.   
  
There was a moment of silence, before Sandra said, "Alright."  
  
"Sandra, I'm sorry that I had to bother you with this. If I had known that you'd already made your mind up about it, I wouldn't have wasted your time."  
  
"It's fine. Just leave it at that, alright?"   
  
"Alright."   
  
Then, she had hung up.   
  
That was the incident that had led Davey to trying to murder his poor phone. But now, he realized, there was one last option left before he was stuck trying to rip his hair out by the roots. The man known as Andy Six.


	3. Chapter 3

Before he left entirely for the day, Davey had one more thing to do. Go visit Ashley. He rode to the floor the other man was in in the elevator, wincing every time the machine creaked and groaned. It was tiny and stuffy in there, and the buttons didn't fully light up, sometimes not at all. The screen above the door that was supposed to show which way the elevator was headed and what floor they were on was fucked as well. It didn't even light up, not a single flicker from a single bulb.   
  
The cheap linolium tiles were peeling up, and it was near impossible to tell what color they had been before. The walls were a yellowed, faded off-white color, stained by the years, with so many scuff marks and dark stains from shoes near the bottom, it was a cry for renovation. The entire tiny elevator stank of stale sweat, and something that smelled suspiciously like urine. The annoying elevator music that they played to accompany it was tinny and whiny, and definitely needed to be gone.  
  
Davey was stuck in there for over 5 minutes, as he ascertained by checking the time on his phone. He tried to breathe in as little of the disgusting smell in that place as possible, taking very shallow breaths through his mouth. And he had thought that the cafeteria at his elementary school had stank! Once again he questioned why the hell he had taken up a job here, even if it were temporary. It wasn't like AFI was doing badly. In fact, they were doing very wonderful, with a new album set to come out in the next few months, and sales at an all time high.   
  
Then that annoying little voice in his head reminded him, that he had taken it up on a whim. One morning he was sitting there drinking his coffee, reading the newspaper, and happened to flip to one of those jobs advertising pages. He didn't need a job, as being singer for AFI _was_ his job. But he happened to scan over them anyhow, and ended up finding out that this crappy assed hospital needed another psychologist, seeing as the old one had probably died.   
  
Not really understanding why he was doing it, he had called them up and applied for the job. They didn't really ask for past experience and reference, which was good, seeing as he had none. All he really had was that degree floating around. But somehow, they accepted him anyways, seeing as no one else had bothered to apply for the job. Now he understood why, seeing as the place was so pathetic.   
  
All that had gone down maybe a week or two ago, meaning that he had just taken up to position there. And now he realized something. When he replaced the doctor that had left, he had taken all of the old bastard's cases. That old fart was the one who had reccommended that Ashley stay locked up for such a long time. Sure, it had taken 2 other doctors to agree to it. But they were the type that would easily be swayed by anything told to them by another so-called professional.   
  
"Holy Shit!" Davey yelled, just as the elevator dinged to a stop. Now he thought that he knew his purpose! To fix all the fucked-assed cases the old fart did! How many more were out there, he wondered? It was a huge, if falling down place. There were a ton of rooms. Ashley's case was the first that he had to review, considering that he had just started.   
  
He walked down the hall calmly, nodding to the orderlies. When got to the maximum security rooms, he simply the nurse his hospital ID. "What do ya need?" The grumpy lady snarled at him. "I need to speak to one of the patients."  
  
"About?" She asked, boredly. "It's a confidential matter."  
  
"These patients ain't supposed to get visitors." She said, snapping her gum. "I am a doctor here, as you can clearly see by this ID." Davey said, waving it under her nose. He wasn't the type to be a jerk, but when circumstances required it of him, he would do his very best. And one thing that he most certainly couldn't stand was the rampant ignorance of some idiots that he was forced to put up with.  
  
Before she could open her mouth with another droll remark, he continued on, voice dangerouly low, "If you, as a worker in this place, refuse to allow a doctor to see his own patients, you are interfereing with their treatment and well-being. So, if you do not let me in this instant, I will have no choice but to file a complaint. I can have your license as a nurse revoked, and you will lose your job here, and will not be able to work in the medical field again. And trust me, this can all happen within a week."   
  
The lady only gave him a glare, before saying, "Go in." and pressing the button that led to the rest of the wing.

After finally getting through the door, Davey made his way to Ashley's door. The orderly outside unlocked it for him. He found it a bit strange that they would think that they'd lock the patients in their rooms. And a bit cruel, too.   
  
He again wondered why he was here. He certainly didn't have anything positive to tell the bassist. But on the other hand, he at least wanted the younger man to know that he hadn't given up on him. Stepping into the room, he cringed, met by the whiteness. There was no windows in it to break the solid white of the walls, and nothing besides a hospital bed in the middle of the room. The fluorescent lights gave a harsh glow to everything. Even the sheets and gown matched the walls and floor. Apparently whoever picked out the colors for this wing, or this room at least, was either color blind, or just plain blind. That, or they had a fetish for white.   
  
"It's just me." Davey said reassuringly, catching the fear in Ashley's wide eyes. No doubt every time the door opened, it was someone else coming in to force pills down his throat, or yell insults at him and tell him that he was never getting out of here alive. The younger breathed a sigh of relief, in seeing that nobody was here to make him feel even worse than he was already feeling, but instantly tensed up again.   
  
"Don't get your hopes up." Davey said, seeing the hopeful look held in those brown eyes, not unlike that of a dog expecting a treat. He wanted the other to know right off the bat that it wasn't going to be good news. At least, not for today. But he would at least know that he hadn't been forgotten and left to gather dust in the corner of a hospital wing for the next few months or years. "What happened?" Ashley asked. His voice was somewhat hoarse.   
  
It was understandable, considering that he didn't really have anyone to talk to over the past 2 months. "Sandra and Jake both said that they'd told you to stop so many times before and they weren't going to bail you out this time. Jake said to let him know when you finally decide to stop. Sandra said it's nothing against you, infact, she loves you like her brother. She said she couldn't stand watching you fall apart. She said that she was worried that one day she would find out that you went too deep and died." Davey said in a rush. Sure, he had embellished what Jake had said a bit, but he knew that the other man was a fairly decent person, easily forgiving, and from what he could gather,the only reason the band didn't want much to do with Ashley, was because of his bad habits.   
  
"What about the rest of them?"   
  
"Well I called Jinxx. He was hungover, and he said he'd already told you that he didn't want to be a part of continuing your issues. He thinks that the moment that you're out of here, you're going to try to kill yourself again or something." Davey said. It wasn't that far from the truth. From what he could tell, everyone around Ashley felt that way, even though they weren't willing to voice it. They felt that he wouldn't stop, no matter what happened to him.   
  
"Seriously?" Ashley asked, disbelief in his voice making him sound like a teenage girl.  
  
"Yup. He doesn't want to eat off paper plates for the next 6 months."   
  
"But he doesn't cook!" Ashley yelled. He would have thrown his hands in the air in frustration if not for the fact that they were currently tied to the bed.   
  
"Ash. He's human. He eats. And he's not Jake, so he can't live off pizza alone." Davey said, chuckling at the thought of the guitarist's almost unhealthy relationship with pizza. "But lemme tell ya, CC was even worse."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You're probably going to get the hiccups laughing so hard but I'll tell you anyways. I call the fucker up, and he's so hungover it isn't funny. We're talking Slash-scale hangover. Maybe still a bit drunk, too! The minute I mentioned your name, he was all 'fuck no, if you do anything, I'll scream rape, cause I already said no!' Then he threathened to kick my ass." Davey said.   
  
Ashley wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry about it. Laugh because a hungover and possibly drunk CC was yelling at Davey for trying to rape him and threathening to kick his ass, or cry because nobody seemed to want him around. A short, sharp laugh echoed around the small room.  
  
"I knew that would cheer you up." Davey said, grinning.   
  
"Hey Davey?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do me a favor?"  
  
"I'll try."  
  
"Wipe my eyes for me?"  
  
Davey took a tissue out of his pocket, wiping away the few tears that had slid down the other man's cheek, before giving him a quick hug, and saying, "Don't worry, there's still Andy. And if I can't convince that fucker to take you home, I'll find someone. Even if that means that you have to crash on Jade's couch for the next couple months."  
  
Looks like he hadn't been forgotten then, and there was still someone watching out for him.


	4. Chapter 4

When Jade had asked to come over for a vegan dinner, Davey certainly was _NOT_ anticipation this. Jade was sprawled out on his couch, his feet still in their shoes resting on the fabric, probably leaving a stain. The guitarist was shoveling down his noodles and tofu like someone was about to come and steal it from him.   
  
Meanwhile, Davey was sitting on the armchair, bowl resting on the coffee table, as he took small, careful bites. " 'O ow's ork?" Jade managed through a mouthful of noodles. "Hmm? Oh. Work. Work is hell, the rest of the staff is composed of old douchebags who think the answer to _everything_ is a little pill." Davey replied, unloading the stress of the last few weeks. _God, it felt good to tell someone the thought that'd been bumping around his head since the time he took the job there._  
  
"Aeetin od?" Jade asked. "Jade, it's hard to understand you with your mouth full." Davey replied. Jade nodded, gulping down the food in his mouth before repeating more coherently, "Anything good?"   
  
"Good like what? The fact that I at least _have_ a window in my office? That I actually _have_ an office to _myself_ even if it's crappy?" Davey asked. He was really feeling the stress of his job now, especially since he was finally admitting it. "No, like interesting!" Jade said, gesturing wildly with a forkful of noodles, only to send them flying, until they hit the wall and fell to the floor. "You should clean that up." He said with a wise sage's nod.  
  
"Actually, since _you're_ the one who threw it there, _you_ can clean it. And depends how you qualify interesting." Davey said, glaring at the poor heap of pasta on the rug. Jade stifled a giggle with another forkful of noodles. By the time Davey had turned his attention back to Jade, the bowl was empty. "Well, I don't know, like meet anyone interesting?" Jade said.   
  
"Do you think im desperate enough to be looking for dates in a mental hospital?" Davey asked, this timedirecting his glare towards his guitarist. "Maybe, I dunno." Jade said with a sheepish grin.  
  
"But now that you do mention it..." Davey said. Jade leaned forward with anticipation. "Yes?" He prompted. "I _did_ meet someone."   
  
"Oh my gosh!"  
  
"Not in _that_ way. Pervert." Davey said. Jade could only roll his eyes. "Then in _what_ way?" He asked. He was almost twitching with anticipation. He had to know the answer to this. "An old friend of ours." Davey said. "Who the hell do we know that would actually _choose_ to work in a shithole like that? Besides you of course?" Jade asked, adding the second part quickly when Davey glared at him again.   
  
"Not a doctor, a patient."   
  
"Oh God. Is it Ryan Ross? Cause I haven't heard from the kid in forever. Or Mikey Way? His anxiety was getting worse I heard. Or is it-"  
  
"Ashley Purdy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ashley managed to wind himself in a looney bin for an extended stay."  
  
Jade gasped and nearly fell off the chair. "No, you're lying to me."  
  
"Nope, cross my heart and hope to die." Davey said, quickly drawing a cross over his heart. "What the hell hapened to him?" Jade asked, his eyes wide. "His cutting got the worst of him. He can't leave anytime soon unless someone wants to take responsibility for him."  
  
"So why doesn't Sandra-"  
  
"She doesn't want to, because she's worried he's never going to stop."  
  
"What about the rest of-"  
  
"Same."  
  
"Then why dont you-"  
  
"Conflict of interest. They wouldn't let it happen."  
  
"Are you asking me to-"  
  
"If I can't get a hold of Andy."  
  
"Davey, it's rude to keep interrupting people.


	5. Chapter 5

Several days after this conversation, Davey still had not called Andy. It wasn't because he had forgotten, but rather because not only was he worried he'd fail again, he was worried that he wouldn't know what to say when. He hadn't seen Ashley in that time, either. However, he decided to pull Ashley's file, just to see if there was anything that could point out to him what was the cause of all this shit.  
  
When the doctors he worked for asked why, he said he wanted to know what, if any, previous treatments the patient had, and if his past doctor had written anything about his diagnosis, or anything to that effect. As a bonus, Davey said that if he didn't have access to that file, he may not be able to properly treat the patient. When he said that, they immediately said yes, any files he needed. After all, untreated patients would look bad upon the hospital, even if those patients were improperly treated instead.  
  
So off Davey walked, to the records department. It was dusty, and ill lit, and the woman behind the desk looked old enough to be Davey's grandmother.  
  
"Excuse me." He said, walking up to the desk. "I'd like to see a patient file." He laid his hospital ID on the desk.  
  
"HUH? DID YA SAY SOMETHING? SPEAK UP!" The old woman bellowed, cupping a hand around an ear that had a hearing aid in it. Davey took a step back. The old lady was hard of hearing. But even so, it'd make him feel guilty to yell at an old person. Even if he was just yelling so they could hear him.  
  
"I'd like to see a patient file, please." He said, in a somewhat louder tone of voice. "SPEAK UP!" She yelled again. Davey gave a sigh, before screeching, "I NEED A PATIENT FILE!"  
  
The old woman picked up his ID, scrutinizing it, before giving it back.  
  
"NAME?"  
  
"PURDY!"  
  
"SPELL IT!"  
  
"P-U-R-D-Y!"  
  
The old woman got up, shuffling over to a set of cabinets, rummaging through them, before pulling out 2 think manilla folders, shuffling over to the desk and dropping them onto the surface. The sheer weight of them made a loud thump. Davey scrutinized the name labels on both files. Maybe one was for a relative? They both read Ashley Purdy, (1984 - ). The singers eyes flew wide open. He expected to have a smaller file. He decided to take these to his shit hole of an office to read them. "THANKS!" he yelled, leaving with the large stacks of paper in hand.  
  
How much of a record would Ashley Purdy have to have to have this much on him?  
  
In his office, Davey opened one file. It started in 2005. Opening the other, he saw it began in 1994. He gulped. While he knew that Ashley had some demons in his past(who doesn't?), just like most of the musicians in the rock scene, he didn't expect the boy to be running from the full ranks of hell.  
  
Most of the records were photocopies, and the doctor's writing was damn near illegible, fucking messy bastards. But from what Davey could read, sometime back in 1994, Ashley's mother had taken him to a psychologist, claiming him to be severely abusive, having violent moodswings, and severe anger issues and depression.  
  
His mother, while in there, started bitching, as was recorded in the doctor's handwriting. She was " irate, speaking over her son...furious expression.... [insistent that ] there was something seriously wrong with her son...." Also recorded was her "answering for her son....refusing to look at the child....asking if they could medicate him, 'so she would not have to deal with it' [the child's supposed anger issues, depression, moodswings, abusive temper, etc. that she had brought the child in for]"  
  
According to this doctor, she seemed "very self-centered, narcissistic.... insisting her son was a 'bad reflection of herself'.... that she was 'ashamed to have him meet people because of his behavior'....stated that she was 'uncomfortable to take him out [of the house], or to be around him in public'..."  
  
Meanwhile, young Ashley "Sat passively.... did not exhibit any behavior the mother insisted he did... accepted whatever his mother said....made no move to correct her unless asked.... responded politely...presented his corrections [ to anything his mother said wrong when he was asked the same thing] in a logical and orderly manner.... maintained a calm demeanor...dressed neatly [step-father said that his son 'didn't normally dress this way', instead dressing 'like an emo freak'].... said he did not have anger management issues, depression, mood swings, etc., stated he was not abusive to his parents [mother interjected that he was 'a manipulative liar' at this point, pointed to examples from when child was 4-6 years of age, typical of temper tantrums of children that age]...  
  
At the end, there was "No medications prescribed, family therapy suggested, follow-up scheduled with hospital therapist for following week."  
  
Below this was a note, dated about a week and a half after the initial appointment was scheduled, 2 days after the family therapy was scheduled to take place. It read "Patient and family failed to show up for appointment. Attempts to reach parents were made. Calls were not returned. Messages not replied to. "  
  
Just as Davey thought it was starting to heat up, that maybe Ashley wasn't as crazy as people thought he was, maybe there was a (very valid) reason he did what he did, that he was about to read a tale of a fucked up adolescence, told through doctors and therapists notes and hospital reports, his door opened, and the secretary that he shared with the rest of the doctors, save the few at the top, said, "Dr. Marchand, your first patient of the day is here."

 


	6. Chapter 6

Back in his seclusion room, Ashley was beginning to lose hope. He hadn't heard from Davey after the day that the other man came in to say that the only one left was Andy. But the truth was, Davey should've said that there was no one else left. He didn't expect Andy to say yes to helping him, especially considering the fact that they had quickly fallen apart over Ashley's issues, and the huge spat that they'd gotten into within a few days before the Outlaw had wound himself up in this shithole.  
  
However, the thoughts soon passed out of his mind, as they were wont to do what with his overtly drugged state. He was just so fucking sick of all these drugs that if he wasn't suicidal and depressed before, he certainly was now. And if he was that before, then he didn't know what he was now.  
  
Meanwhile, in his portable potty of an office, Davey was busy reviewing Ashley's bulging files in between clients. He was shocked at how young some of the children were, and how much they were taking. If he wasn't mistaken, most of those drugs he could swear that he had heard the disclaimers and warnings for most of them being unpleasant, such as "Not approved for children under 18', and 'May cause suicidal thoughts or actions', and the whole laundry list of nasty side effects for even the mildest of medications.  
 ***]**  
[*(A/N: This is true, most medications, even ones given to children as young as 12 or so, maybe even younger, such as abilify and prozac have lists of side effects as long as my arm, maybe longer. Sad thing is, the doctors won't tell you that. Even if it's something that could be life threatening, like heart failure, blood disorders etc. And yes, mice given prozac tended to have a higher incidence of cancer than the mice not given the drug, yet of course FDA and pharmaceutical companies haven't put out that warning because there 'Isn't enough evidence' as the drug hasn't been out long. But watch, in like 20 years there's going to be a huge amount of cancer sufferers just because they LOVE handing out prozac without knowing the longterm consequences.....)  
  
Several said that they were feeling 'fine', even though they were so out of it that they couldn't focus their eyes, and their speech was slow and slurred. Then, Davey realized by quick glances into their files that they were only saying that because in the past every time that they said they weren't doing well, ro were getting side effects, other medications were added, and the dosages were upped.  
  
Sadly, while he realized how fucked up this place was, he only had a few minutes with each patient, and he couldn't go around yanking patients off the medication without causing a shit storm. As it stood, he couldn't cause a shit storm before saving Ashley, so he did the most that he could get away with, and still keep his job. He removed some medications from the really drugged up ones, lowered some dosages, and even let a couple off completely free, told to follow up in a month or two. IF he were asked, he'd say he had concerns the drugs were negating each other, or might react badly together, and that the doses were so high that it might do damage, and they didn't want a lawsuit if anything went wrong, now did they? And the ones let off was because they had begged for it, and he just wanted to show them that they couldn't function without the pills they were taking all them time. Of course, this was all bullshit that he was hocking up from the back of his throat, but he was going to play their stupid little games just to get what he wanted. Even so, he felt rather guilty about it, considering that he wasn't very manipulative by nature.  
  
Somehow, he found the time to start reading through Ashley's files. The kid certainly had a fucked up life.  
  
About 2 years after the initial visit with the psychologist, he had been made to go see the same man, who yet again asked his parents the questions and ignored Ashley, and his parents were all too happy to lie about it. However, this time, Ashley left the room. He claimed he was looking for a bathroom and got lost. They still put him on a 72 hour hold, saying that he 'tried to run away'. They put him on anti-depressants the same day, apparently before he even saw a doctor. He was 13 at the time.  
  
Several weeks after, maybe a month or so tops, he was thrown back into a hospital, because this time, someone with the name of Dahvie Vanity said that Ashley was cutting in front of him. That report, from the police, seeing as he had been taken from school by officers, stated that Purdy denied it, but upon searching his bag, they found a small exacto knife thing, it's blade barely a centimeter long. He denied knowledge of It being there. Said he wouldn't knowingly bring something like that to school. He was answered with another 72 hour hold.  
  
Then, Davey's lunch break ended, and he had to go back to work. Vaguely, he wondered if he could stay late to finish reading the rest of this file. He also noted that a lot of the file was composed of those pointless notes on what the man ate, how much he slept, how many pairs of socks his mother brought him while he was in the hospital, and things like that. That was information that Davey didn't want or need to know,, yet here it was clogging up the files with unimportant shit when he just wanted the important details.

 


	7. Chapter 7

As Ashley sat in his cell, something odd was happening in the real world outside of the hospital.  
  
Jake was beginning to fee as though something was wrong. It was getting under his skin and bugging him. So did Jinxx. Did it have anything to do with the fact that they'd turned down Davey's pleas to help their band mate? They weren't sure what to think about it yet, however.  
  
On the other hand, Sandra didn't have the feeling of something being wrong. In place f that, she felt extreme guilt. It hadn't developed overnight. No, this had been brewing a while. For the first month or so, she felt that she had done the right thing by leaving him in the hospital. She had seen him deteriorating in front of her, and she felt as if by sending him there, he would get the help that he needed. It was her last resort.  
  
But after the first month or so, not hearing from Ashley, she had called the hospital. They told her that they would only give information to family members. So she said that she was his step-sister. Then, after a lengthy wait time, a doctor came on the line. He sounded annoyed to be interrupted, and had been cold and snappy with her. He said that Ashley was in seclusion for violent behavior, and there was no visitors allowed, not even family. Then, he had hung up on her.  
  
Sandra had ended the call disappointed. She thought that if Ashley was going to get help, he shouldn't go attacking the people who were supposed to be giving him the help. However, something seemed off to her about the reason he was locked away. Sure, he could have a bad temper when he wanted to, but it was never unprovoked, and she could count the amount of times that he had gotten physical on one hand.  
  
By now, however, Sandra was feeling immense guilt, escpecially since she had said no when Davey asked her to take Ashley home.  
  
CC wasn't feeling all that much differently about the situation. Even though he mightn't look it on the surface, he was pretty sensitive. He had felt at first that it was a good thing that Ash was getting help. They said that he'd be there maybe a week or so tops. But that week turned into a month into two months, and now he was worried it would turn into a year. He had begun to get discouraged, and was drinking himself into a stupor from the minute he woke up every day with a hangover, just to repeat the cycle all over again. Davey had managed to catch him moments before he was able to grab the nearest bottle.  
  
The truth behind the reason why everyone always said no to taking hom the Purdy creature was just because they all thought the same thing. If they brought him home, would he kill himself, and would they be able to live with themselves after that?  
  
But as for Andy, he couldn't care less. When he heard what Ashley did after the argument they had, all he did was scoff and say, "typical".  
  
He hadn't even bothered to think about the Outlaw, much less try to contact him, or even find out what was going on second hand from Sandra like the rest of the guys were currently doing. And the kicker to this was that this scrawny bastard was going to be the almost last resort for Davey.


	8. Chapter 8

Some days, you just can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes, it's legitimate things, like being told you have 3 months left to live, or your entire family died in a fire when you were on tour, or even being told you have something incurable, or being tossed in a jail cell for an indefinite time.  
  
Other times, it's over something stupid. Your first girlfriend breaks up with you, or your best friend moves away, and you act like your whole goddamn world is crumbling.  
  
Now, it's not like I'm saying it's wrong to be upset over things like that, even if it's pretty small when it comes to comparing it to shit you're gonna see in the future. What's wrong is to go around acting like it's the ultimate end.  
  
It's like, your girlfriend left you? Fine, go cry for a few days. But also realize that there's going to be other girls. Don't try shhoting yourself, even if you guys were planning on getting married.  
  
Now that I think about it all, this advice that I'm just telling myself in my head, not even writing it down, it's not going to be heard by anyone else, but I should've taken it ages ago. Stupid, yeah?  
  
I'd had a bad month ever since the tour ended. Got pretty ignored by most my friends, and my family wouldn't shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I mean, come on! I walked out nearly 10 years ago, when I was barely 18, dammit! Isn't that a big enough hint to say, 'Leave me the fuck alone.'? It's like, they fucked up more than half my life, the formative years, and now they won't just stop it. I have fucking nightmares, and flashbacks about that shit, man! I wonder if I have like PTSD or something!  
  
So feeling like unloved fucking chopped liver, I desperately wanted to feel better. Being the stupid desperate bitch that I am, I sent Andy a text saying, "Sorry for everything." I was already at my breaking point.  
  
He sent back several messages, thoroughly cursing me out, saying I hurt him once, but he wasn't going to get hurt again, he said that I was gonna burn, and that he hoped that I would find someone stupid enough to stick around to keep getting hurt. After that, I snapped, my hands shaking so bad that I could barely grab the blade....  
  
just to think of what happened that day hurt me like all hell. Seriously, every time that I even begin to think about it, I start crying.  
  
And in this shithole, every time they saw me cry, they upped the dosages, added pills. If I was awake when they thought I should've been sleeping, out came the sleeping pills. If I were asleep during the day, I was jabbed awake and gave me something that gave me too much energy, energy that I couldn't burn off, tied up as I was. It's like, lock me up somewhere, no windows, no stimulation, next to no human contact, tie me up, and what else am I supposed to do? No wonder people went crazy and started talking to themselves.  
  
I swear, I feel like I'm a goddamned drug mule...


	9. Meetings and Change of Persona

After finding the files the week before and doing his best to skim through them and take in all that he needed to, Davey was in shock at everything he had learned about the Outlaw.

After the incident with the exacto knife, there was another one, where the same kid, Dahvie Vanity, had called the school counselor, saying that Ashley was still cutting. Another 72 hour hold. Between this incident and the last, the bassist had been placed on quite a few different medications, the doses of which were changed every few weeks, and some replaced by others every once in a while, leaving the symptoms of his withdrawal from one to overlap with the side effects of the new ones. And, by this time, there were multiple cases with child protective services open involving the man at this time.

Then, there were doctor's notes stating that Ashley was 'unwilling to comply with treatment' when he went off medication and therapy for several months. That had signaled an end of the hospitalizations for the time being. The first 3 had come one behind the other, all within the space of 2 months. They weren't followed by any more.

It was quiet on the surface, but there was tension brewing right below it. The cases with the Child Protective Services weren't closed yet. Ashley wouldn't make it more than a year off the medication. Around 6 months or so after he stopped taking the little poisons, CPS caught up with him. They started calling and visiting, even going as far as showing up to his school. 4 months after those visits resumed, he would up in the hospital again, courtesy of his parents this time.

The notes on this particular incident were particularly unpleasant. Besides the fact that the hospital staff had decided to keep him on another 72 hour hold, CPS became even more involved in the bassist's life. There were notes from the hospital recommending that he be sent to a residential facility for 'intensive care' due to his 'severe mental and emotional disturbances', and there were other notes from CPS, documenting the various 'procedures' that they'd taken to 'ensure' that the then 14 year old boy wasn't 'a danger to himself or others', as his parents claimed that they were 'afraid of and for him'. Among these 'procedures' was 'the removal of anything that could possibly pose a danger from the household' and 'frequent visitations'. This particular set of notes left a rather unpleasant taste in Davey's mouth.

Davey nearly gagged at the extensive BS that they were spewing. Was he certain that they hadn't accidentally switched their heads and asses? He wasn't all that sure anymore.

About 5 months after that incident, Ashley attempted suicide. It seemed that it was his first try. He had taken a bottle of aspirin, and a handful of sleeping pills, resulting in him spending the better part of 2 weeks in a mental ward. They didn't want to let him go home. They day before they finally did, they wrote a letter to the county requesting to place him in a residential facility. He was let go the next day with a shiny new prescription for anti-psychotics. But why anti-psychotics?

Either way, there was too much against him to allow him to stay a free man. 6 months later, right after New Years, they admitted him to a residential facility. When they found out that he'd stopped taking his medications a month after his suicide attempt, they flipped and kept him longer than the normal stay. He'd been just shy of 16 when he entered, and wasn't released til he was nearly 18. He'd spent 20 months in there. The average time spent was 6 months.

While in there, his weight plummeted, and he often refused to eat, complaining of the food's quality. He also tried killing himself several more times while in there. They finally let him go simply because a judge refused to renew the holding order, and he was just a few months away from being 18.

Within 2 months of his being released, he was admitted to an eating disorder clinic for his refusal to eat properly. He turned 18 while he was in there, and signed himself out the same night. Afetr that, he discontinued all treatment, and seemingly disappeared off the mental health radar for several years. He resurfaced when he was 21, now in South California, in an ER, suffering from bad reactions to high doses of several street drugs that he had mixed with alcohol. The doctors there called it a suicide attempt. When he was released, he never followed up, and dropped off the radar again.

After that, he was brought in by a room mate when he needed stitches for cutting too deeply on his wrist. He was nearly 23. after being served with another 72 hour hold, he once again decided to skip off on the treatment they were intent on pressing upon him.

Then, when he was 25, he was brought in by a friend of his who said that he had swallowed a bottle of Oxycodone. Another 3 weeks lost. More talk about residential treatment. More refusal.

Then, there was a few scattered incidents mere weeks apart. He had gotten a 72 hour hold each time, due to his constant self-harm. When he was 27, he was admitted to the hospital again, this time from bulimia.

Then, there was the events of this past year. Davey sighed. Just skimming the files was painful and tiring, both mentally and emotionally. The day wore on both too slowly and too quickly for the singer's liking.

He decided to pay Ashley a visit. Seeing as it was going to be hard to get a minute away from the influx of patients, as besides dealing with the remnants of the last doctor's patients, he was also taking them from the other doctors. Sad to say, this impressed them with his dedication. Yes, he was dedicated, but only dedicated to saving as many people from this corrupted system as he could before the shit hit the fan.

However, this meant that the only option that he saw was either go during his lunch break, or have them bring Ashley to him. The only problem was that he had mostly stopped taking lunch breaks. This had raised some eyebrows, which were lowered only when he said that he was eating between seeing patients in order to fit more people into a day. After all, he could squeeze in 5 or 10 more people a day if he skipped a formal lunch break, and didn't they want longer lunch breaks for themselves, and more patients passing through this shithole every day, lining their pockets?

That pretty much meant that the only option that was left for Davey was to have them bring Purdy to him. He picked up the phone, dialing the extension number to the ward that the other man was staying in.

"Maximum Security Ward." A gruff, rather bored voice drawled from the other end.

"Dr. Marchand, requesting a patient."

"From this ward?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

"I've noticed some discrepancies and I'd like to try and set them straight."

"Uh huh. You know how much trouble setting your lil' 'discrepancies' straight is gonna cause?" The man in the ward sneered down the line.

"In that case, I'm sorry to bother you. I'll just let the director know that-"

"No, no, we'll bring you the bastard when this place empties out at 7."

"Good." Davey said, hanging up the phone. Vaguely, he wondered when he started using threats like this on other people, but brushed it off as another patient walked into his tiny office.


End file.
